


Laramie Ficlets

by upon_a_painted_ocean



Category: Laramie (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-18 14:31:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5931820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upon_a_painted_ocean/pseuds/upon_a_painted_ocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various short fics and scenes of domesticity from the Sherman Ranch, featuring Slim and Jess, a couple of the most Married cowboys around, and their motley and much-loved little found family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quiet Evening

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos to infiniterider and their Drifter No More series for convincing me to post these, un-beta'd though they are, and to everyone in this tiny fandom who leave such sweet and encouraging comments.

It was late after supper on a snowy winter evening when Slim stepped out of the kitchen, having finished washing up after the meal. Jess had cooked, so it was his turn at the cleanup. It had been quiet in the house all evening, with all sound from outside muffled by the snow. Side stepping the old rocking chair by the fireplace to add another log to the low flames, Slim found Jess curled on the hearth rug fast asleep with a half-finished piece of whittling cupped in his hands, Andy lying next to him snoring gently with a book resting open on the rug beside him.

Slim smiled at the scene and built up the fire, then gently removed the carving from Jess’s loose grip, carefully closed the penknife open on the rug beside him, and placed both on the mantelpiece where Jess could find them in the morning. He picked up the book Andy had been reading as well, a collection of Robin Hood tales Slim had been given when he was Andy’s age, and dogeared the page it was open to before placing it too on the mantel. He smoothed Andy’s hair from his face, kissed Jess softly on the forehead, and moved to the table to work at mending tack by the light of a lamp with its wick turned down low.


	2. Appreciation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure plot-less fluff, covered in flour.

On his return from town, Jess entered carefully through the kitchen door with an armload of supplies which he deposited on the floor and just stood quietly for a moment to take in the scene that met him. Slim was standing at the table working at some sort of dough, with an apron tied on to protect his clothes from the flour that was dusted everywhere, including a smudge across his right cheek, and his tongue poked out a little in intense concentration. Jess grinned fondly and stepped across the kitchen to wrap his arms around the taller man from behind.

He hummed a little in satisfaction from where his face was pressed into Slim’s shoulderblades.

“Jess, what are you doing?”

“Appreciating you. What’re you doing?” he mumbled into Slim’s shirt.

Slim twisted around in Jess's grasp to return the embrace.

"Trying to make bread, but the dough doesn't seem to be cooperating. I followed your notes on the recipe but-"

Jess stopped the explanation with a brief kiss. "Just let me get these groceries put away and I'll lend a hand."

He walked away to retrieve the parcels he's left by the door, seemingly unaware of the floury handprints on the seat of his jeans.

 


	3. Lunch Date

Slim looped the horses’ trailing reins over a low-hanging branch with enough slack to allow the animals to graze for their own meal and then joined Jess in the shade of the tree. He sprawled full-length on the ground beside his partner, with his head in Jess’s lap, and grinned up at him.

“What sort of sandwiches did Daisy send us off with?”

“Won’t know less you let me up so I can reach my saddlebags. Now move, ya great lump,” Jess said as he stretched to reach his bags from where he had tossed them.

Slim sat up and Jess leaned companionably against his shoulder and passed him the paper-wrapped sandwiches.

“Looks like what was left of the chicken from last night.”

“Great. Pass me one?”

They ate in silence, then Slim looked at Jess. “Did I see Daisy slipping you some of those molasses cookies she made?”

“Coulda.”

“Feel like sharing, pard?”

“Dunno. Whose jacket pocket are they in?” asked Jess, nonchalantly finishing his sandwich.

“That of my _very_ good friend and business partner, who is feeling extraordinarily _generous_ today.” This said while leaning across Jess’s body to reach his left pocket. With Jess leaning away, laughingly trying to keep the pocket out of Slim’s reach, Slim ultimately overbalanced and sent both of them sprawling. Slim found himself lying on top of Jess, Jess’s arms around Slim’s waist and Jess laughing in what, had this not been Jess Harper, Slim would have been tempted to term a _giggle_.

“Pft. They’re in the inner pocket, though I’d bet you’ve managed to crush ‘em all. _Oof._ And me.”

Slim now grinned down at Jess, planted a brief apologetic kiss on the tip of his nose, and rolled off him to lie in the grass beside him. Jess sat up and pulled a folded bandana out of his pocket which he opened to reveal a slightly mangled handful of molasses cookies. He ate one, and then another, and then relented at Slim’s slightly imploring look and chose one of the more intact cookies to feed his partner.

“Can’t have you living up to your name now.”

“Mmf,” agreed Slim through a mouthful of cookie crumbs, and sat up to swallow. “I wonder if Daisy’d give you the recipe for these?”

“Maybe if I trade her the one for Mrs. Dean’s cinnamon bread she would.”

Between the two of them, they finished off the remaining cookies in short order. Jess stood and shook the remaining crumbs from his bandana then shoved it back in his pocket before turning to offer a hand to Slim. “Ready to go, pard? Reckon we’ve had a long enough rest and it’s getting on late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points if you can spot the nod to infiniterider's Finding Family (http://archiveofourown.org/works/1405300).


	4. Blanket Nest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been quite so long since the last update! I got a couple of lovely comments within the past few days that reminded me I should really post another of the ficlets languishing in my WIP folder.
> 
> I forget which episode it's in, but Jess's pyjamas, or lack-there-of, are on display when he answers the door to Mort Corey and spends the rest of their conversation shivering in the doorway. As someone who also prefers to pile on another blanket or three rather than wear more to bed, I sympathize.

“Aw, Slim, it’s useless; give it up and come back to bed, ‘s cold.”

This protest was muffled by the three quilts Jess was currently curled under.

“You’d be warmer if you wore more to bed than half a worn-out union suit you know.”

“I’d be warmer if someone hadn’t managed to break the window while trying to put up the storm shutters.” 

“You’d be warmer if you came over here and helped.” Slim was struggling to tack a square of oilcloth over the window which was missing two of its panes, and not meeting with much success as he tried to simultaneously hold the canvas in place and hammer tacks around the window frame. After the fifth tack bent to the point of uselessness, Slim gave up and threw the hammer and oilcloth to the floor in exasperation. “For the love of…!” he exclaimed and stalked across the room.

Jess heard the footsteps approaching and held up a corner of the quilts in invitation. “Just get in bed, hardcase, ‘fore you catch your death of c- augh!” his words turned to a yelp of surprise as the covers were suddenly yanked off the bed and Jess curled more tightly into a ball against the sudden cold. 

“C’mon, and bring the pillows.” 

Jess grumbled and shivered and gathered the pillows, as well as two more blankets from the far bunk, and shuffled out to the main room, which was significantly warmer, even against his bare skin. He found Slim adding logs to the fire and the stolen quilts spread on the hearth rug behind him. 

“We camping out here tonight then?” asked Jess, even as he added the pillows and additional blankets he had brought to the make-shift bed. 

“Yep. Even you should be warm enough in front of the fire.”

Jess muttered something along the lines of having near about spent more winters in Wyoming and similarly cold places than in Texas by this point, but also reached to add another log to the fire.

Fire banked for the night, they both set about making themselves comfortable in what, after Jess had added the last of the pillows, and even the afghan that usually hung over his rocking chair, looked more like a nest than a bedroll. They lay quietly for a few moments, and Slim had just about fallen back asleep when Jess spoke up. 

“I’ll help you fix that window in the morning. Hope the wind will have died down by then.” Anything else he might have added was swallowed up by a great yawn. 

“Thanks, Jess. Now go to sleep.”

“Sure thing, pard.” Jess tugged the topmost blanket of their nest further up over them both, laced his fingers with the hand that Slim had rested atop his hip, and commenced to snoring softly.


	5. Ambush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one! Thank you so much to all who've left their wonderfully kind words on previous chapters! (Also a note: If anyone thinks the previous chapters look different and is confused, I reformatted the first few to make them all look uniformly neat and also added a couple lines of dialogue, no cause for concern.)

Jess crouched behind the watering trough, the water in which had a solid layer of ice atop it. The day was cold and clear, with only an intermittent breeze to account for when aiming. Drifted snow against the rails of the corral offered cover from behind, and a good supply of ammunition was stacked within easy reach. All that was left to do now was hunker down into the warmth of a turned-up shearling collar and wait. Jess idly packed another snowball to add to the pile.

Mike scrambled across the yard and dove for cover behind the trough, breath pluming behind him and his mittens flapping at the end of their strings. “He’s comin’! I can hear the snow crunching 'round the side of the barn!” he struggled to whisper in his excitement and ended up with what amounted to a slightly hoarse half-shout. Jess shushed him and they both waited with tense anticipation as the footsteps grew closer, and, when they judged the sound to be well within range, leapt from hiding, snowballs at the ready.

“Alright, thanks anyway, Slim. Let me know if you do see any sign of-”

A double barrage of packed snow stopped the conversation in its tracks, as well as the man speaking. Mike and Jess stood frozen in the act of throwing more snowballs, which instead plopped onto the frozen horse trough. Mort Corey stood scarce six paces from them, mouth in mid-sentence, hat knocked from his head, snow in his hair and melting on his collar. Slim was to his left, utterly untouched by snow.

All present stayed in a frozen tableau for the space of two heartbeats. Mort shut his mouth. Jess surreptitiously brushed the incriminating snow from his gloves and jerked an accusing thumb at Mike, face a picture of innocence. Mort and Slim looked at each other. Slim gave a nearly imperceptible nod and they moved to scoop up a handful of snow each, both with a considering look in their eyes, as though gauging range and trajectory.

“Now look, this is all a simple mistake. How ‘bout we all settle this real nice and civilized over a cup of coffee-” Jess raised his hands placatingly.

“It was all Jess’s idea! I just went along!”

Mort looked at his snowball consideringly and smoothed it into a more perfect sphere. Slim grinned and gave his an experimental little toss in the air.

Jess tossed Mike over his shoulder and ran for the cover of the chicken coop. He could feel the impact of two expertly aimed snowballs against the back of his heavy coat. Mike shrieked with glee and hollered encouragement to Slim and Mort.


End file.
